


last dance is mine

by bewitchingwind



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Homosexuality, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewitchingwind/pseuds/bewitchingwind
Summary: he didn't know why he asked him. from then on, the undanced dance lingered round them laughing, playing with ferdinand's hair, pulling at their sleeves. I don't know why I asked you.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	last dance is mine

**Author's Note:**

> i owe fire emblem my life and i just want to die in it and i have. this is my ferdibert, if you so please. very personal flair. dramatic gay ferdie, depressed gay hubie, JUST SIMPLY DA GAY ZONE IN HERE
> 
> following them through the years and getting Sad and Weird
> 
> some irregular grammar like no capitals because i simply do what i want :-)
> 
> sorry about lorenz being so present
> 
> I'M SO HAPPY WRITING ABOUT SOMETHING I ACTUALLY LIKE FOR THE FIRST TIME

he didn't know why he asked him. from then on, the undanced dance lingered round them laughing, playing with ferdinand's hair, pulling at their sleeves. I don't know why I asked you.

  
it's hubert who later gives it a name, eye seeming to gloomily follow its invisible caper round them. "if you hate me so much, I don't know why you asked what you did then." arms crossed, rudely looking away. it was just like him to be so roundabout only at the most inappropriate moments. and now the rejected dance has become a _thing_. oh, ferdinand wasn't ever supposed to meet a boy like this.

"I just meant it as a peace offering, also as a jest. as something anyway, but whatever, I don't know! can we leave it there?"

"what?"

_"what??"_

"wh- how then was I supposed to respond? I could have accepted and then how would you have reacted?"

"I'm saying it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world, maybe I wouldn't have minded!" both of them are furiously pink in the face, very angry about something or other. that's why this always goes so poorly. he doesn't know what he's angry about. that's why he hates him - not even at all.

he hates him, but - sometimes. sometimes... well, anyway, his new friend lorenz of gloucester is head over heels for claude von riegan instead, and they go over the merits of him (and hubert) and their teachers and knights and any other eligible bachelors in the known world. ferdinand probably says many ridiculous things about his own horrible favourite whenever they have a little more than tea, if you know what he means, but although lorenz finds his tastes deplorably foolish, he always has very kind eyes about it. that's how this happened, isn't it? for some reason, he just knew right away that lorenz was the same kind of boy as him maybe, and it is unbelievably comforting to be with him. that there is someone that feels the same way about boys as he does.

there is one thing, though. lorenz still goes on about finding the perfect wife to anyone who will listen, so that everyone knows he has more than frivolous private inclinations. he is desperate to keep that image up. but ferdinand doesn't think he could even fake that. perhaps there isn't anyone else who feels the same way about boys as he does. 

  
things are a little different later. everything changes. things he thought were unimportant, become so, and things he thought were crucial and dramatic, perhaps less. he now needs more than an afternoon gossiping to fill his cup. lorenz has gone home. ferdinand has his first kiss then, because his father is done and linhardt offered and he just couldn't bear not knowing anymore, for what if no boy ever wanted to again? lin says he might not quite be just a boy, perhaps that's why ferdinand still feels so alone about it all. but possibly, it might be because ferdinand is gayer than anyone morally should be.

it's not terribly interesting and lin goes away somewhere directly after, but ferdinand knows innately it was a mistake. because "you know, I've kissed hubert too" echoes in his wretched steaming ears. and he knows he can't forget what this can feel like, now. ever since the war began, he just keeps making mistake after mistake. he's really in for it now.

they have tea sometimes. him and hubert. he doesn't know what happened. but somehow, he started being a bit more honest with him - just a bit! that is to say, no matter what, hubert is important to him. crucial to him. that's not too much to say, no gift could be too much. everyone is important to him and he gives gifts to everyone. hubert sits silently in the breaks of their conversation, looking into the far distance with his cheek in his hand, visible eye crinkled, or down into his coffee with a complicated brow. the parting of his hair is so pretty. no-one else's is quite like it. sometimes he looks up with that clear, tired eye and gazes at ferdinand's like all the world is in there. the air is totally breathless. yes, this it it.

when lorenz comes back to them, they immediately resume a sort of mature(r) version of how they spent time as a pair of youths, or younger youths, taking tea, only with better hair, now talking their pretty heads off about absolutely everything rather than _just_ boys, which for some reason ferdinand feels more awkward about doing these days. like it's more complicated now. just, he's almost worked out something, he's almost there. he just needs a little more time. lorenz still has big views on everyone if not now bigger, about how everything should be going in this campaign and in general. ferdinand tries to relay this on out of kindness, and then he and hubert start arguing a lot again, so there is always something still to vex over at those nostalgic little tea parties.

lorenz is convinced that hubert is in love with ferdinand, and tells ferdinand so at every opportunity. silly. and lorenz seems, for the first time, desperate to actually get the wrong sort of rumours sent back to leicester for once. (it doesn't seem like things were going very well with his immaculate life plans.) so although no-one really cares, now that they're older they start pushing the courting angle with everyone, as if he and lorenz are at all eachothers' type. (they both agreed on about day 3 of their weird friendship that they were both into far more cool, secretive and less noble men.)

it's not really ferdinand's idea, but, well, the element of perhaps being asked about it and then getting the chance to deny his unavailability is intoxicating. really, all they are still doing is gossiping about other boys. (well, sometimes lorenz pats his hand.) nobody believes them anyway...... except hubert. (he can work out any spy network, politics, but the intricacies of... gentlemen's affairs are not his area. that's the problem. nor of fake dating intricacies. a regrettable idea.) who then starts bowing sarcastically at lorenz every time he witnesses them getting lunch together or something as if they're out in society or engaged to be married, which prompts some kind of row usually, until when forgotten in the background lorenz excuses himself in irritated shame. but even though it's embarrassing, ferdinand just can't stop. give me attention, see me, laugh at me. let's think about something other than war. I just wish I could do what I really mean. I might not live forever, is all.

  
he probably, definitely couldn't get through it all without lorenz, so it's still good he's here. he's the only one with whom he can discuss what's _really_ important. they go over it all like never before - well it's a coping mechanism isn't it? lorenz, for his part, seems to feel history is simply the stage which his own tragic high romance deserves, but ferdinand isn't so confident. now that he is really thinking about it, he notices other people getting it right all around them. lin is undeniably with caspar in some capacity, even though he definitely had a fancy for their professor in school, yet caspar also has some kind of arrangement with ashe, who is very particularly sad about the king, who all know is tied to that man dedue. (also that he is mad, but that's neither here nor there.) the girls all seem to have deep interlocked relationships unfathomable to one such as him, and there is a very pretty individual called yuri now who flirts with absolutely everyone.

why is it so easy for everyone else? the two of them try in vain to keep up with the enviable developments which have entwined all around them, and worst of all, about why HUBERT is currently in correspondence with CLAUDE, the absolute worst thing to ever happen to the two noble young gentlemen cruelly tossed aside by this unbelievably insensitive slight.

  
it's too much. for he could die, he could die. he is one time too many tired of hubert raising an insidious little eyebrow about lorenz whenever the four of them are in proximity - and hubert insinuating to the heir to gloucester he knows intimately about claude's affairs (despite the fact they have for clear reasons not properly met since school...) - that at a point when ferdinand catches him alone in the corridor he mortifyingly starts up like clockwork the veiled jealous (?) _thing_ they do with absolutely no-one else. only it's coming to a crux, lately. it's just them, no farce, only the wrong way, there must be something more. there must be something more for them.

"well... I heard about you and linhardt!" he finally crows dramatically, and somehow his friend (?) turns a fascinating shade, which is yet surprising and embarrassing to witness. "oh please!" hubert croons back in scorn, "so that was about you as well? will you let me excuse myself now? we're all busy. I have better things to do." "well how would I know - you never spend time with me anymore - I know you don't have time you don't have to tell me - I'm just sick of this." "this isn't anything. is it? is it?" and the miserable, dancing tone spins round ferdinand in an echo of a waltz when he's left alone. no, one must sigh, it simply isn't ever going to be easy for them.

  
they both go on, as ever. ultimately, they are somehow dear friends, and that will never change. perhaps he doesn't want it to change. some things matter less, too, these awful days. as it all goes on hubert starts spending his scant free time with that dreadful spook jeritza, behaviour which once would have formed the basis for several weeks' of dissection with lorenz, but even they have drifted apart. all he feels is distantly, sadly curious, as with most things now. in the end, they all have the same aim in this world. to discover the mystery of life. however one can. even if without him. he is very tired, after all. he _does_ truly want to survive to see edelgard's "peace" and _does_ help her birth it, he wants to witness a clearer world, just the same hue as hubert's eyes. not a deep religious green, a high one of spring growth. of eternal possibilities, of endless promises, yes - of Life. yes, they are just that green. even if he never has them, they are exactly that green.

  
**

a great age passes. what he gave his life for, came about. it is a testament to her majesty's inexhaustible powers of "life" that she is able to turn her eyes to that dear future. he has none of that - nothing.

they are together of an evening, him and ferdinand. they are often together. it gets him to wondering if they are both vagrants of the past now, that despite the other's verve he too is displaced, desperately seeking the true path to the future. for ferdinand is something like a key. hubert merely has to look at him to see the past, all the distracting things that frightened him to feel, refracting off him in endless prisms and spirals of light. for the sunset shines on him through the window. it shines upon him still. no, he is different, hubert feels, has always felt. he feels it heavily.

"you should pay jeritza a visit," hubert muses, in response to some passing question ferdinand posed, as to whether there was anyone who could help such as them. he takes a sip of tea. he has it now, sometimes. he has nothing much to lose. "I certainly learnt a lot from him. he knows all about this. the Dealing With Despair." jeritza called it _death therapy_ or some such cursed thing. too bad hubert forgot it all and is dying again. but it's alright. this is a fine deathbed.

ferdinand tenses and looks at him painfully and merrily all at the same time. "oh no, I couldn't, not _him_. how cruel." 

"please. we just sat together, most times. much like this, but even quieter. I assure you," and even though ferdinand laughs an "I know" he visibly relaxes. they are quiet together a long while now. sometimes there seems nothing left for them to say, but that's not quite true, is it?

"we certainly are ridiculous, aren't we?" is how ferdinand puts it, head upon hubert's shoulder and voice distant, fond and something else as no doubt he gazes off into their memories. "erm... you know I also wasn't ever actually with lorenz, yes? dear, assure me again."

"oh, I know that. but I thought you might defect with him," hubert suggests quietly. ferdinand is disarmed.

"you can't really mean that."

"I suppose I don't, but it would have been a perfect opportunity. we stripped you of everything," he murmurs.

"I would never leave you," ferdinand pleads.

"that's all?" he returns half-heartedly.

"isn't it?" is that breath back, wistfully, shakily, smilingly. as if to add no, that's not what I really mean. they look at eachother in silence. sharing that old pristine air between them... ferdinand always continues though. desperate to find the words. "it, it was terrible of me. I wasn't dedicated to a cause, I'd made everything personal. I wasn't like edelgard, I just wanted to do what my friends were doing. ah..." he blushes. "that is to say, people I wanted to be my friends." hubert rolls his eyes. "you don't understand," ferdinand insists. "it was all about you. don't you understand?"

at some point they have stood up, as if this is a confrontation. curious. as if he has the energy. but there is something ferdinand himself doesn't understand. if hubert did have energy, he'd want to urge him to. for ferdinand is tired, but he is free.

"I don't know how to live in this world. I think, I wasn't meant to live this long."

ferdinand just looks back at him a long time, his mouth horrified, but his eyes keenly trying to piece everything together. please, hubert insists silently. I welcome the autopsy. you know nothing of what it truly means to turn yourself into a living weapon. please, he wordlessly beckons. you tried to turn me back into a young man, with a silly heart. I never wanted you to stop trying. I'm...

"I'm getting very tired," is what he says, and ferdinand's voice is sore and strained as he must reply, "I know."

"I am afraid. I don't know you on the other side of this. I cannot go there, I," and ferdinand seizes him arm, painfully, kindly.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'll draw you towards me. I caught your eye, I've not let go. I'll bring you here, where the rivers flow-"

"stop rhyming," hubert complains with a blush.

"it's from an opera!" ferdinand pushes him with a scandalised laugh. "I think." his eyes are swimming.

"you might be the only thing that has ever truly frightened me." it makes ferdinand start, so hubert seizes him this time as he keeps speaking. "darling, listen. I've always wanted to tell you this. I used to feel such fear and anger on lady edelgard's behalf, all my life, so much, now less. only fear sustained me, I thought. but I was ready to die at any time for her. is that indeed true fear? I don't think so. I was ready. but you make me, I, I _cannot_ die yet, I cannot go there. that's what you make me feel."

"if you cannot go there, _or_ here, where will you go?"

" _why_ were you always getting in the way?? life wasn't real, I was a means to an end. I became a living knife and it was _so_ easy. it was painful, many times -" he knows his eyes go far off, to being 8, being 12, the becoming process was not easy, "- many times. but it seemed a worthy life."

"it was not worthy."

"it was fitting."

"it was not fitting."

hubert huffs wretchedly, but ferdinand keeps going. "the answer's simple - I've already got it. just stay in this room with me. dance with me, and nothing more. no plans, no solutions. nothing you're good at, in other words."

oh, yes, he did ask for a dance back then, didn't he? hubert had forgotten entirely, and yet he's never really recovered since.

they were already holding eachother, and nothing much changes. hand in hand, a foolish, endearing sway, as if dancing with a child, or another fool. playing the coquette. he hears his own voice turn low, conspiratorial. "you know, I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but you're unbelievably flamboyant." it makes ferdinand gasp silently in delighted horror. "don't they coach eligible young gentlemen like yourself to at least not give it away? you're being dangerous."

"I want to give it away."

"you are ridiculous," but hubert was now laughing darkly into the crook of ferdinand's neck. his own head impossibly light, his heart, stomach, all absolutely haywire. oh, this was not supposed to happen at all. yet it _was_. finally the true story unravelling, fast.

he had never, ever been nostalgic before. so why did this emotion add so much more meaning and power to every ridiculously inane little thing that ever happened? and ferdinand keeps going!

"I wanted to dance with you more than I had ever wanted anything."

"but why," hubert cries, aghast. oh, tell me why all of this happened so. horrified and desperate to hear. _oh why,_ _why did you pay me any attention at all? it all could have been so easy!_

"I don't know," ferdinand wails back, "I could think of nothing but you sometimes! it was disgusting! you just went round and round in my head, and you could, oh you could get to me like no-one else could. I was so nonsensically obsessed with besting edelgard, and why? there was no reason to, I respected her position, we had separate roles. I was constantly throwing myself into your line of view... I needed your judgement. that was the true dance. had it not been for you in the middle of us, I never would have danced so hard!" his cheeks were pink with strong recollection of feeling.

hubert strains in admonishment, heavy knowing, long-suffering chastisement. "it was just so uncalled for! competing with her was a mistake, I saw you plain enough, I..."

"I know, you needn't. goddess, I know... I  
think I wanted to be like lorenz? he thought arguing with claude was so romantic, he encouraged it!!" ferdinand's eyes alight with this new angle of persuasion.

hubert laughs at that, for "that only incensed me more. I was mortified you were comparing _us_ to their - lovesick debates. to be honest, I never thought claude whatsoever interested - I thought that separated us from them and everyone else too, actually. I was paying you so much frantic attention trying to figure you out for good. who you _really_ were. one could figure out gloucester down to his smallclothes so much as be in his vicinity three moments." ferdinand pinches his own cheeks in scandalised admonishing glee. "I didn't think you Her equal, but I thought you Mine. I don't know, some madness about complementing eachother. no more about it, I beg you."

"this is how we should have danced back then." it wasn't even a dance now - arms slung together, more akin to a drunken embrace, the idea utterly depraved in wider company, and together impossibly comfortable and gentle. an accomplished dancer and incorrigible show-off, dreamily locked in an ambitionless slow twirl while hair scandalously asunder, with him of all creatures. no audience - nothing - only eternity. it seems like being caught in a stitch of time, back to the beginning of them, like he is looking directly into a mirror. and what he is seeing is not very complicated at all. they get quieter, holding on quite tight, swaying terribly. now he is horrendously reminded of how fragile, how strong, how real, how impossible this one is. this is dangerous. _I know I cannot do this. not I._

 _I could hurt him............... and I don't want to. I hear his very heartbeat, and it_ is _asking me things - but what?_ \- now he is just going back over those leftover exercises he'd learnt from his pretty little evenings with jeritza. honestly, those times were a mistake - he had never truly dwelt on the physical reality before then. it had just been: people were alive before they were dead, and then no more - control the flow like a river, become as a dam to enact change, in the endless cycle of life and death within this nation. that this useful vestra method linked him to his wretched father had begun to goad. so then instead, turn it all inside out and truly master it like a puppeteer turned rogue, playing the True tale out for the sake of the future...? become a living weapon. it was fine that it was rotten - that he was, in the very very end, inescapably still a vestra.

but then - no more. suddenly, he had wanted to be alive. you are alive, jeritza had said. I'm so glad. had he said that?

"you're alive. I'm so glad." it was such an appalling thing to say. so ill-timed. his heart sank with it. but ferdinand's eyes are streaming with little tears. and he responds immediately, "yes, yes, I'm so glad too. I'm so glad." gripping his hands, drawing them softly away from where they had, horribly, been clinging to ferdinand's precious, crucial neck. the vital point he knows best. trembling. testing. hanging on for dear life, oh dearest dearest life.

"I can't believe this is our first dance! doesn't it feel we've always done this?" is all ferdinand says, laughing and crying with a wild shake in it. he opens his eyes and they're gazing, eternally soft and piercing. knowing and accepting everything. _he's_ never been afraid of anything. hubert stares at him through the pain, and fear, and ineptitude, brought through time into memory. away from Death, back to that realm of youth - Life.

grown ruined men getting to their late twenties, having gone through a war and a half, reminiscing over the unbelievably inconsequential thinly veiled critical _stupid_ romantic subtext of their own doomed lives. what an evening. of transforming back to when they were teens, desperately playing out the petty gay dramas their youthful selves had wished to play instead - throwing your body against the bars of one's cage called Duty, and yes, called Life, calling notice me, revile me, esteem me. oh, do notice, when my eyes linger just a moment longer on another boy's.

  
they kiss, at some point. there are no gasps of shock from dead fathers. no admonishment about duty from anyone at all. there aren't even the hands of the dead, those fathers and victims and enemies ghostily holding onto their sleeves, dragging them down to perdition. he can feel his heartbeat a little through his own lips. he brought this blood all the way with him - miraculously, ferdinand kept most of his too. lips are red because of that. honestly, he isn't thinking much. they share silly, dear kisses and whisper and laugh. hubert turned 27 recently. he's alive.


End file.
